Wedding Frame
by Sydelle Rein
Summary: As Arthur rides to Nemeth to join the festivities of Mithian's upcoming union, a member of her court is putting a plot into motion. Soon Arthur finds himself trapped inside his own mind and stirring up trouble between the two kingdoms against his will. Merlin stands as his only hope, unaware that while Arthur's actions are not his own, his mind is far from dormant. No Slash
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello again! I am kicking off my next medium-long-ish project. How long? I'm not sure. I've got the whole plot mapped out, but you know me. My projects always turn out longer than expected. We shall see.**

**This brain project sprang up part-way through **_**Iron Grip**_**, although the backdrop for the plot was a recent stroke of inspiration. Set after season 4, but before season 5. Enjoy!**

**~Syd**

Chapter One

Merlin attached the last bag behind the saddle, his arms protesting the extra weight as they always did before a long journey. Why did Arthur need so much _stuff?_ Seriously. When Merlin traveled to Camelot to start his entire _life_ over, he'd taken nothing but a single pack. They were going to be gone for a few short weeks and Arthur was taking half his wardrobe. And he had a _big _wardrobe.

"Don't look so glum, Merlin." Speak of the king. "A few weeks away from this place will be good for us. New surroundings, new food, new people."

"I prefer the people I know. At least, most of them."

Arthur slapped him on the back. "Oh, come. I thought you liked Mithian! At least, now that she's no longer my betrothed. You weren't too fond of her then."

Merlin couldn't help but smile. "Hey, I was right, wasn't I? You _did_ belong with Gwen."

"Oh don't rub it in. It's been years, already." That it had been. Arthur and Guinevere had been married for three whole years.

"And of _course_ I like Mithian," Merlin added. "I just don't fancy traveling such a long ways for a wedding I won't even be invited to."

"Merlin, don't be silly," Arthur chided. "Of course you can come to the wedding! Who else is going to keep my goblet full at the reception?"

"Great," Merlin muttered.

But all things considered, Merlin was actually looking forward to the trip ahead of them. Things had been quiet recently—no assassination attempts, no evil creatures, no mysterious earthquakes or foul plots—just calm. This seemed like a good time to be getting out of Camelot for a bit of a change of pace. Maybe they'd even get through this trip _without_ a near death experience.

Plus, Merlin _did_ like Mithian. If not for Guinevere, he would have considered the princess an excellent match for Arthur. All things said, he was happy she had made a match, as well.

The wedding announcement had come over a month ago, along with an invitation to join in the festive occasion, which Arthur had joyfully accepted. Now it was time to head south and make good on that promise.

"You boys will be careful while you're gone, won't you?"

Both of them turned to face Guinevere, who was looking as stunning as ever in her royal court gown of blue silk. For some reason, Merlin still got a kick out of her dressed as a noble every now and again, even after all these years. The Gwen he remembered wore that soft yellow peasant dress. But the nobility suited her, though she clearly still had the heart of a peasant—to which Arthur liked to whack Merlin alongside the head when he called it that, insisting royals can be just as kind as any peasant.

"Of course, love." Arthur quickly and unashamedly pulled her in for a kiss, making Merlin back up a step and shake his head with a somewhat awkward laugh. He turned instead to pat his horse, who stomped his foot in a display of impatience. Somewhere from a short ways away came a loud, appreciative whistle, and Merlin didn't need to look around to know that was Gwaine.

"Oy! Princess!" the knight called. "Shouldn't you be setting off?"

Arthur very purposefully ignored him and kissed his wife for another long moment before he released her. "You take care of Camelot while I'm gone," he instructed her.

"Of course, love," she mimicked, reaching up and brushing his hair to the side. Then she turned to Merlin as Arthur hurried off for a few last words to the knights. "Take care of him, won't you?" she asked.

"Of course, my lady."

"I'm serious," she said, then looked over to Arthur again, where he stood glowering at something Gwaine had just said. "He always manages to get himself into trouble, somehow."

Merlin put a hand on her arm. "I will take care of him," he said sincerely. "I always do, don't I?"

Gwen hugged him, ignoring the impropriety of a queen hugging a servant, and even kissed his cheek.

"Oy!" Arthur shouted upon his return. "I don't think I like you kissing my servant."

Gwen laughed, and in response simply kissed Arthur again, though briefly this time. "Give Mithian my regards?" she asked. "I wish I could go, too."

"Someone has to stay behind and run the kingdom," Arthur pointed out. "She understands that." He took his horse's reigns in hand. "Leon!" he called, "let's mount up!"

Leon obediently broke from his conversation with Percival and swung into his own saddle, as Merlin did the same. Most of Arthur's inner-circle knights—the ones the people had taken to calling the Knights of the Round Table—were to stay behind and lend their support to Guinevere. Of them, Leon alone would accompany the king, as Arthur's personal guard. There was always a possibility of Camelot becoming a target while her king was away. There were several other knights going as well, of course, but none that would offer Merlin any sort of entertainment, unfortunately.

The three of them, plus their small entourage, rode through the city and out the main gates, marking a course south for Nemeth.

.~.

When they at last rode into the gates of Nemeth—Arthur and the rest of the knights all sporting their striking scarlet cloaks with the Pendragon insignia—a horn sounded somewhere overhead to announce their arrival. As a result, Princess Mithian, her father, and several people who Merlin could only assume to be members of the court were at the castle's main doors to greet them. They stood at the top of the main palace steps. The castle's stone was much darker than Camelot's, Merlin noticed. Mithian looked as stunning as Merlin remembered, glittering crown set upon her dark locks.

"Arthur," Mithian greeted pleasantly, descending the last steps as they dismounted. "It is good to see you again." He took her hands in his and kissed her cheek gently in greeting.

"And you. Allow me to offer my congratulations on your tremendous news."

"Thank you," she said. It was horribly formal, in Merlin's opinion. But there was no mistaking the sly warmth there. Neither of them had forgotten that they were once betrothed, but neither of them wished things had turned out differently. They were happy.

Mithian gestured behind her, and a man stepped forward. His hair was dark, like hers, and cropped short. A neatly trimmed beard covered his chin. He was dressed in striking blue and gold.

"May I introduce you to my betrothed, Duke Edgar of Caerleon."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Edgar," he offered his hand, which the man promptly took.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty," Edgar responded immediately, bowing slightly over their joint hands.

Arthur dropped his hand and waved the title aside. "Please, call me Arthur. I get enough of formalities. We are allies, are we not? And soon to be equals."

"You are kind."

Arthur next gestured behind him, and Leon came forward obediently. "May I introduce you to my trusted knight and right-hand man, Sir Leon."

The pleasantries continued for a moment, before Mithian cut them off, finally catching sight of the servant standing back by the horses.

"Merlin!" She cried, quite unexpectedly. She stepped around the nobles and made her way to him.

Merlin, still holding the reigns of the horses, bowed. "Your Highness." The princess actually took the reigns from his hands, waved over a stable hand of her own and passed them off before taking Merlin's elbow and leading him forward none-too-gently.

"Edgar, this is Arthur's manservant, Merlin. Really, Arthur, you don't even introduce him?"

Arthur barked a laugh. "Well, he doesn't have the same impression on most nobility as he appears to have had on you."

"Nonsense." She turned back to Merlin. "It is good to see you again. I trust you've been taking as good a care of Arthur as always?"

"Of course, my lady. He needs looking after."

She smiled broadly. "That he does."

Merlin couldn't help but return the smile. He really _did_ like this woman. He was extraordinarily glad that after everything, they had all remained on good terms. He would have been quite sorry indeed to alienate her. Even if he _had_ wanted her out of his kingdom at the time.

"And what's this? Forgetting to introduce your favorite cousin?"

Another man came down the steps to join them.

"Kinsley!" Mithian called in surprise, yet her face broke into a fond smile. "Well, you were nowhere to be found when the guards called out our guests' arrival. Where exactly did you disappear to?"

"Doing some research into your wedding present," he replied. "I have quite the plans for your gift. Unfortunately, I will need to take leave of our present company for a week or so while I acquire it. I hope they will forgive the slight. It is for a good cause, after all."

"I'm sure I can find no fault in a man leaving for so generous a reason," Arthur replied. "If I hadn't brought my gift with me, I may have even joined you. But as it is, I have come prepared."

Kinsley barked a laugh. "I like him!" he announced, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. Then he held out his own hand. "Duke Kinsley, of Nemeth. I am Mithian's cousin. Welcome to our home. You will dine with us tonight, of course?"

"Kinsley," Mithian responded sternly. "I am sure our guests our tired. They have traveled a long ways."

"Nonsense! They have to eat, don't they? Why not eat in good company?"

"It would be an honor to dine with you this evening," Arthur assured her. "Rest will be just as easily attained afterwards."

"Very well. Issel?" Mithian turned, looking around in puzzlement before a young woman appeared as though out of nowhere.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Issel, would you be so kind as to show our guests to their chambers? Then in an hour, please escort them to the dining hall." She turned to Arthur again. "This is my personal maidservant, Issel. If there is anything you require, please make it known to her. She will take good care of you during your stay."

Two more servants, both male, appeared as well to help carry bags. Merlin stuffed his arms full, then followed in the woman's dainty footsteps.

A pleasant princess, a few extra servants…maybe this would be a nice trip after all. So long as Arthur didn't load him with meaningless chores just for the sake of it, which would really not surprise Merlin at all. That prat.

But, a man could hope, couldn't he?

.~.

"The king seems…quite amicable with Her Majesty."

Kinsley frowned in response, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he glanced out his window where Mithian and Edgar were both briefly in view.

"Yes," he answered slowly. "That does pose a bit of a problem."

"So how do we proceed?" the knight demanded. "Our plan was based largely on the anticipated animosity between those two. He _did_ call off their engagement, after all. But it appears our plans are entirely baseless."

"Patience, Leric," Kinsley said calmly, raising a casual hand. "Our plan will proceed. We just need to alter the time frame, slightly." He stared out the window, long after Mithian was out of sight. "She obviously sees the Pendragon as an honorable sort of fellow. We'll just need to show her he's not the man she thinks he is."

"And how do we do that?"

"Gradually," was the automatic response. "The wedding is still three weeks away. That's more than enough time. I am scheduled to leave tomorrow to obtain Mithian's 'gift.' I'll slip Arthur the root tonight at dinner, then we will proceed as planned tomorrow."

There _would_ be war between Camelot and Nemeth. Then Mithian and Edgar would die, Camelot would be blamed, and the Nemeth crown would be his.

**A/N: So there you go! The specifics of their plot will become clear in the next chapter or two. As of now, enjoy the sense of sinister foreboding.**

**Setting this plot with the backdrop of Mithian's wedding was the final tidbit that fell into place for this idea. I couldn't resist. I love Mithian. She was quite tremendous in her brief appearances in the show, and I thought she deserved a happy marriage of her own. Plus, I thought it would be nice to have some fresh blood in my stories and I've never written her before.**

**In the meantime, check out the poll on my profile page.**

**See you soon!**

**~Syd**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for the positive response to this story! I am quite eager to read your reactions as this story progresses.**

**Onto chapter two! Enjoy.**

**~Syd**

Chapter Two

The next morning dawned bright and clear, but Merlin's body still protested when the light shined through his window and told him to wake up. It had been a _long_ ride to Nemeth, and his bed here was far more comfortable than his bed back in Camelot—even if it was just a servant's bed set up in Arthur's antechamber.

But, Merlin thought somewhat deviously, if _his_ bed was this comfortable, then Arthur's was infinitely more so, and the king would _not_ enjoy being woken up this morning.

Of course, that also meant Merlin would probably get something chucked at his head, but it would be just about worth it.

"Rise and shine!" Merlin called loudly as he opened their connecting door. Arthur was draped over his bed, arm hanging awkwardly over the side. He stirred, then very childishly pulled the blanket over his head.

"Oh, don't be like that," Merlin teased. "It's a beautiful day! New surroundings, new food, new people…"

A moment later a pillow was chucked at him, which Merlin caught easily. The action, however, told him that Arthur was awake enough to understand the mockery from his own words being repeated to him.

Unashamed, Merlin strode forward, took hold of the end of the blanket, and ripped it off the bed.

"_Mer_lin!" Arthur shouted. "I should have your head for this!"

"Oh please. If you were going to execute me you'd have done it a long time ago. Get up!"

"Once again, Merlin, you are forgetting who is the king here."

"The king who promised Edgar you'd go riding with him and Mithian in the morning." Merlin paused, stopping to take a good look at Arthur. "Wow. You look _terrible._"

"Shut up," Arthur scolded, rubbing his eyes.

Merlin chuckled. "Didn't you sleep at _all?_ That bed is luxury, and you went to sleep before me. How can you still be so tired?"

"In case you haven't noticed, _Merlin,_ I tend to have a lot more going on in my life than your easy life. Of _course_ I need more sleep than you."

Merlin bit his tongue. No use arguing. "Well, in any case, you don't want to be late. It wouldn't exactly look good if you slighted His Grace on your first morning here."

Arthur groaned. "I don't even _want_ to go riding! I've done enough riding the last few days to _get_ here! What kind of idiotic idea was this?"

A small knock on the door interrupted his rant, so Merlin went to answer it.

Issel stood there, carrying a tray of food that looked far too heavy for her slight frame, so Merlin immediately relieved her of it. "Thank you, Issel. You don't need to do this everyday. Sometime today could you show me the path to the kitchen? Then I can fetch Arthur's breakfast in the future."

She looked surprised, as though that was not something frequently offered. Then she curtsied slightly, the curtsey of respect to an equal. It was not a common motion performed between peasants, so Merlin was taken slightly aback. "Of course. Shall I come for you when you return from the ride?"

"That will be perfect. Thank you."

With a nod, she left again.

"It's not like you to be jumping at the chance for more chores," Arthur pointed out. "Got a little crush, have we?"

Merlin glared. "Hardly. But I don't have as much to do here as I would in Camelot, while I'm sure she's loaded with chores."

"She's a servant, that's what she does."

"It's polite," Merlin countered. Plus, he didn't like the idea of anyone else handling Arthur's food. Not that he didn't trust Mithian's maid, but he knew that _he_ would be far more alert for anything amiss.

"What do _you_ know about being polite?"

"Plenty! _Mithian_ seems to like me well enough, after all."

"Which baffles me," Arthur countered. "Since you were not at _all_ subtle that you wanted her _gone_ when she was in Camelot."

Merlin shrugged. "And now she sees the wisdom in that."

Arthur sighed. He no longer countered Merlin on such points. Merlin had proven himself to indeed be quite wise on occasion. Although just because Arthur couldn't refute it, did not mean he had to agree.

However, he did have something of relative importance to discuss with his servant.

"Look, Merlin," he said, in all seriousness, "while we're here, I have a job for you."

"Just one?"

"Shut up." Merlin raised his hands in surrender. "While we're here, you…you're not to leave me and Mithian alone, under any circumstances."

Merlin's brow furrowed as he slowly lowered his surrendered hands. "Arthur," he said slowly, "you're not having…regrets, are you?"

"No!" Arthur said hastily. "No, of course not. I love Guinevere. I would not change a thing about my life. But…there are some who may doubt that."

Ah. That made sense. Propriety, and what not. "You want to avoid rumors."

"Yes. Especially since Guinevere could not come with me. And what with Mithian and I having…a history…"

"Got it. Chaperone duty for the remainder of the trip. I can do that."

"And don't make it obvious," Arthur added as an afterthought. "Not that you _know_ how to be subtle…just—be natural…"

"Just naturally follow you around like a puppy dog?"

"You know what I mean!"

Merlin chuckled. "Yes, yes. Don't worry Arthur."

"Good. Now…let's get this ride over with."

"Think it will be awkward?"

"God I hope not."

.~.

Turns out, it wasn't terribly awkward at all, although it had a bit of a slow start to it. Edgar was an enjoyable fellow, who talked and laughed a lot. And Mithian was of course as pleasant as ever. If it weren't for the fact that Arthur was already tired of sitting in a saddle, he might have even enjoyed himself.

As it was, it came as a slight surprise to Arthur when he suddenly realized that both Mithian and Merlin had dropped back a ways, and Arthur was riding alongside Edgar with relative privacy.

"Arthur," Edgar began, voice sounding slightly unsure of himself, "I confess that simple pleasantries was not why I suggested this ride. If that were the case, we could have stayed in the castle and sipped tea, for I know how sick of the saddle you must be, by now."

Arthur, growing serious, nodded. "I'll admit I was wondering if something like this was coming."

"Then I'll get straight to it, shall I? I am not one to drag things out that are better done with quickly. Only, I hope you do not take any offense, or consider me impertinent."

"I assure you, I know you well enough already to know you would never mean me disrespect."

Edgar still paused, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Mithian was out of earshot. "The two of you were once betrothed."

"Indeed."

"Will my marriage to Mithian cause any sort of rift between Nemeth and Camelot?" Arthur actually started. That was not entirely what he had expected. "It's just, your betrothal was meant as an alliance," Edgar continued, "only after the breaking of the engagement, you entered into an alliance after all when you gave back the lands of Gedref. But, if she marries elsewhere…"

Arthur held up a hand to stop him. "Edgar, believe me. I hold no regret for what happened between Mithian and I, only that I wish I had not been so foolhardy to enter into an engagement so recklessly. Perhaps then I would be spared these awkward rumors."

"I mean no—"

"Peace, Edgar, I find no fault in you. And so you know, once and for all, I hold great respect for Mithian, but I do not love her. I love my own queen dearly. Even if that were not the case, I would not be so petty as to sever such a strong alliance for the sake of a marriage that _I _myself called off."

Edgar seemed relieved. "Then there is no ill will?"

"None," Arthur confirmed. "I would happily officiate the ceremony myself, if that is what you so desired, but I think that task is best served elsewhere."

"Agreed." Edgar grinned and Arthur couldn't help but respond in kind. The air between them, while cordial so far, lightened considerably as though a great weight had been suddenly removed.

.~.

Mithian breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw Arthur and Edgar suddenly laughing again.

"You weren't honestly worried, were you, my lady?" Merlin couldn't help but ask. Mithian had asked him to hang back with her, so that Arthur and Edgar might have a moment alone.

Mithian smiled. "Not particularly. But still, it is nice to have the air cleared, nonetheless." She turned to him. "Thank you for keeping me company on this trip. Edgar and I felt it would be best if the three of us went together first thing, but I knew Edgar wanted to talk to Arthur. It was nice to have someone to talk to in the meantime."

"I must admit, I really do not care for politics," Merlin responded. "What does it matter what people think of the three of you? Arthur is happily married, and you're happily engaged. That should be enough proof for the world."

"I agree," she said simply. "I have never cared for politics. But unfortunately, not caring for them does not mean I get to ignore them."

"You sound like Arthur," Merlin surmised. Then he paused. "You know," he said slowly, "it was never that I did not like _you."_

Mithian smiled softly. "Thank you, Merlin, but you do not have to explain. Arthur told me of the blacksmith's daughter when I first left Camelot, and news reached us some months later about his marriage. You knew he was still in love with her, didn't you?"

"Yes, my lady. I did."

"You are a good friend to him. Loyal."

_Like a puppy,_ Merlin thought, thinking of their conversation that morning and trying not to suddenly laugh.

"He is lucky to have you."

"I am but a simple servant, my lady. I do what I can."

"But you're more than that."

Merlin snapped his head to her in slight alarm.

But there was no hint of any secret knowledge, just observation. "I think you are much more intelligent than you let on. And if I am right, you do much more for Arthur than he truly realizes."

Merlin smiled softly and bowed his head. "You honor me with your words, Your Majesty. I thank you."

"Shall we catch up to the others, then? It looks like they are done with whatever private words Edgar wanted to share."

.~.

"It's me," Leric whispered through the door before Kinsley hurriedly unbolted it to let him in.

"No one saw you return?"

He shook his head earnestly. "I was very careful. As far as anyone knows, the two of us left just before dawn. Our horses are being cared for at the inn of one of the outer villages."

"Good. It is imperative that no one knows we are still here."

"Have you begun the preparations?"

"I was just about to. I cannot begin too soon. Arthur must be asleep before it takes affect. That way no one will notice the change."

"But you did get him to eat that root at dinner last night?"

"Of course! He is a true diplomat, never questions anything that is served to him on a plate. But now comes the real test to see if that shaman was telling the truth."

The two of them crossed to the table at the far side of the room. They were in one of the abandoned guest rooms in the farthest corner of the castle. These rooms were never used anymore. Not since the new wing had been built forty years ago. A layer of dust coated everything, but it served their dark purpose greatly.

On the table sat an innocent looking candle. Carefully, Kinsley uncorked the bottle that sat there and pulled out three hairs—one blonde from King Arthur, one dark from his own head, and one white hair from the same root that Arthur had consumed the previous night. He twisted the three together, then carefully wrapped them around the wick of the candle. An identical knot of hair remained in a bottle wrapped around his neck.

"And if this doesn't work?" Leric asked.

"Then we do things the old fashioned way. But that would be so _messy._"

Carefully, he lit the small candle. When it burned up completely, it would begin.

.~.

"Edgar's a decent fellow," Arthur surmised that night after another dinner with their hosts that evening. "Kind, thoughtful. I think he'll be a good match for Mithian."

Merlin snorted. "As if they need your approval."

Arthur shrugged. "No, but I _do_ like her. I am glad she has found someone to make her happy."

Merlin nodded his agreement. Then, when Arthur dismissed him for the night, he returned to his bed in the antechamber and promptly collapsed. Dinner parties were so _boring _when you weren't actually invited. Granted, Mithian was pleasant enough, but there had been several other nobles there tonight, as well.

He fell asleep almost instantly, blissfully unaware of Arthur already snoring in the next room.

It was two hours later, however, when Arthur was suddenly jerked awake with shocking gasp of air and a certainty that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

"Merlin!" He managed to call out before he collapsed back down onto the bed again, lungs feeling starved for air for a brief but agonizing moment.

Merlin was bursting threw the door in an instant, quite disheveled but eyes alert for danger. What he found instead, however, was Arthur sitting up quite peacefully in his bed.

"Arthur?"

"Never mind, Merlin, it appears I made a mistake. Go back to sleep."

Merlin glared at him, quite suspicious. "What 'mistake' resulted in you shouting as though there was an assassin in the room?" he demanded.

"I told you, _go back to sleep._ I'm fine. I'll see you in the morning."

"Fine!" Merlin snapped. "But don't expect me to come running the next time there really _is_ an assassin, or a magical creature, or _whatever_ the heck you thought was worth waking me up after a rather exhausting day." He stormed back into his room without another word.

And Arthur smirked.

**A/N: Oh no. The evil smirk of doom! Thoughts?**

**~Syd**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks again for supporting this new project! **

**I'm really trying to be better about updating more regularly this time around, by the way. So far it's a success! And on that note, I shall not keep you waiting with my endless prattle, since no one comes here for that. Instead, I shall let you dive straight into the story. Onwards!**

**~Syd**

Chapter Three

Merlin was still grumbling under his breath as he completed the last set of stairs up towards Arthur's temporary quarters. Really! It wasn't as though Merlin wasn't _used_ to late or interrupted nights, what with all his save-Arthur and save-Camelot tasks he had to complete, far more frequently than should be necessary. But getting his sleep interrupted for absolutely _no reason_ was just plain irritating.

Seriously! _What_ had that been all about?

But of course he already knew. Stupid Arthur had woken up and decided that if he had to get his sleep interrupted, then so did Merlin. Stupid royal prat. He had half a mind to let Arthur get his own breakfast.

Yet here he was, carrying a tray loaded with more breakfast goods than two men could eat, let alone one—fruit, biscuits, ham, cheese…Who could eat so much food in the morning? But the kitchen staff had starred at him like he was crazy when he had mentioned not needing so much. So he took what they gave him.

Merlin paused before the door, then quickly snatched one of the biscuits and stuck it in his pocket before carefully balancing the tray and opening the door.

"Up, up, up!" Merlin called as he entered. "Best not laze the day away while—" he froze as the door swung shut behind him. "Arthur?"

Arthur turned from his spot at the window and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"You're awake," Merlin observed. "And…you're dressed."

"Nothing gets by you, does it, Merlin? Now, are you going to stand there holding that all day long?"

Merlin shook himself slightly, then carefully set the tray down before fetching the discarded nightclothes to neatly fold. "Well can you blame me? I _always _have to pry you out of bed in the mornings!"

"You do not _pry_ me out of bed!" Arthur protested. "I get up at exactly the right time!"

"Because I make you."

"_Mer_lin," Arthur warned, in the same tone he had used so many times before. Merlin raised his hands in mock surrender and then turned his attention to smoothing out the bed sheets.

"_Merlin!_" Arthur said again, making him jump slightly. "Did you steal one of my biscuits?"

_What!_ How on earth had he noticed?

"Of course not, _Sire,_" Merlin protested, clutching his hands to his chest in exaggerated indignation. "I know better than to steal from the his royal highness!" Unfortunately, a voice dripping with sarcasm does not inspire much confidence amongst accusers, so Arthur turned around and pegged him with a steely glare. "But I'm hungry!" Merlin whined.

"Then go down to the servant's kitchen and get your own breakfast!"

Merlin dug into his pocket and chucked the biscuit at Arthur's head, which he of course caught with ease. "And when, exactly, am I supposed to do that?" Merlin demanded of him. "Or have you forgotten that you're to spend the morning with Mithian as she shows you around the city?"

"I don't see how that concerns you," Arthur countered automatically, once again with his attention on his breakfast.

Merlin was actually surprised for a moment. "Uh, because _you_ told me to follow close at your heels for this whole trip," Merlin reminded him rather pointedly. "Especially when Mithian is concerned."

"Don't be ridiculous Merlin. I certainly do not need you to chaperone me. I'll go to the city with Mithian. You go…do whatever it is you do throughout the day."

Merlin's mouth actually dropped open. "You're giving me the day off?" he asked.

"Would you _rather_ I give you a mountain of chores to keep you occupied?" Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Arthur, determined to find the devious twinkle in his eye or twitch of his lip that would prove him up to something. Arthur rolled his eyes. _"Really,_ Merlin. I don't need you following me around. I _can_ take care of myself."

"But…what about Mithian? You said it yourself, you don't need rumors to spread up about the two of you."

"I hardly think the presence of a servant would count as much of a chaperone, anyways," Arthur pointed out. "Besides, we're just going to the city. There will be plenty of people around."

"I suppose…"

"Good. Did Issel show you the way to the laundry room, as well?"

Merlin, still a little unsure, nodded. "Yes."

"Take my clothes down to be washed. Then do as you will. Just bring me my lunch on time."

Merlin scratched his head, still slightly baffled. But at last he shrugged.

Who was he to argue with free time?

.~.

_Merlin!_ Arthur screamed inside his head. _Merlin! Come on, would I _really_ give you a day off? Think!_

But Merlin remained unaware of the king's attempts to contact him, and soon he was leaving with a basket of his riding clothes from the trip as well as yesterday's clothes, leaving Arthur to sit at the table and finish his breakfast in peace.

"Arthur" chuckled slowly once Merlin was gone. _Nice touch, huh?_ An only somewhat familiar voice asked in his head. _I was particularly proud of matching your intonation when I said his name._

_Who are you? _Arthur demanded. _How are you doing this?_

_Magic of course._

_So a sorcerer then._

_No, actually, I'm not. But magical items and simple instructions can work wonders, even for the…magically inept, shall we say._

Arthur watched through his own eyes as he finished the last of his breakfast, stood, and went to the mirror to straighten his clothes quickly before promptly walking out the door.

It was eerily unnerving, as Arthur wasn't telling his body to do any of this. But he simply could not stop himself. Whoever was inside his head was in firm control. Arthur couldn't even bring himself to speak.

The king spent the entire trip through the castle trying to get control back. But his body simply would not listen to him.

The voice in his head laughed again. _I can feel what you're trying to do, you know, and it won't work._

_Let me go!_ Arthur demanded. _Get out of my head!_

_Can't do that. I have lots of plans for this body. _

"Arthur," He stopped just before the castle's main doors as Mithian approached him from the other direction. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"I only just arrived, my lady. Your timing is impeccable."

"Glad to hear it."

"Will Edgar not be joining us?"

"Not this morning, I regret. He has been spending quite a deal of time with my father. If this kingdom is going to be his, he has much still to learn."

"Of course. A great kingdom such as Nemeth demands nothing short of complete dedication."

"You are too kind. Well, shall we?"

Arthur stretched his arm forward, indicating she should lead, so Mithian obediently led the way outside.

_You won't get away with this._ Arthur chided in his head again. _You really think you can fool everyone? They'll realize soon enough this isn't really me._

_Ah, but you see, that's the brilliance of this little spell here. You see, most spells like this—spells of control, possession, whatever you want to call it—keep the mind of the victim dormant. But this one, this one keeps you wide awake with me. And you're wide-awake mind is going to help me._

_I'd sooner die._

_Of course you would. But see, I don't need your consent. Your body is not the only thing that is mine to control. _Arthur bristled, really not liking the sound of that. _You're memories are mine, too._

What?

_Ha! I can sense your confusion. You really are ignorant in the ways of magic, aren't you? I may not be a sorcerer, but I'm not foolish enough to completely ignore it. I can see all your memories. All your past interactions, your mannerisms and your way with words._

_You're a liar._

_Am I? I know that boy Merlin is of great importance to you. _Unbidden, images came to Arthur's mind. He wasn't sure if he was recalling these memories, or if this other man was, but the memories came. Merlin, drinking poison for him and Arthur riding off to save him immediately afterwards. A dragon attack, faced side-by-side. Witty banter time and time again. Merlin, encouraging him after his father's death. So many images, some of great importance and some of virtual insignificance, but all significant to him.

_You see? I can see everything. I say a few simple words and you can't help but bring up all those memories. It's an automatic human response. Everything in your past is linked through your mind. It's a simple matter to recall details._

_It will never work,_ Arthur countered. _So you can see my memories. That means nothing. You won't fool anyone._

_I fooled Merlin didn't I? _the voice pointed out. Then he laughed again. _Yes, and I can feel how much that stings. Your greatest friend didn't even realize it wasn't you. If he can't see through this façade, who can?_

"Over there's the market square."

Arthur jolted slightly, but the person in his mind was unfazed and replied without so much as a twitch.

"Yes, I saw them on the way in," he remarked. "You have some remarkable craftsmen."

"Our kingdom has some of the finest glassmakers in the realm," Mithian remarked. "Would you like to meet them?"

Arthur nodded in earnest. "Of course."

Meanwhile, the _real_ Arthur tried to think of a plan.

_It's useless, _the voice put in. _Any plan you think of, just by thinking it you inform me._

_.~._

Merlin stroked his horse softly, trying to enjoy the calm of the moment. Rarely did he get any time to himself. Between Arthur and Gaius, he was kept on his toes the majority of the time. Really. If it wasn't for some subtle twitches of his fingers he didn't know how he'd manage to get everything done. And now?

…

He didn't actually know what to do with himself.

If he'd had this free time in Camelot, he'd have some _very _good ideas on what to do. He could always find Gwaine—assuming the knight wasn't actually being responsible, which was rare—or visit Guinevere. Then of course, there was always that magic book for a bit of studying and experimentation, but that book was tucked away, neatly hidden under his floorboard many miles away.

Plus, practicing magic in an unfamiliar kingdom would probably not be the _smartest_ thing he'd ever done.

So here he was, in the stables, gently stroking his horse as he pondered his options. He could take a walk through the forest, he thought idly. Surely it wasn't too dangerous to stray a bit. He doubted Arthur would run into any trouble here. He could manage without him for a few hours.

But Merlin couldn't shake the same feeling of skepticism that had crept up during that unlikely conversation at breakfast.

Not even a full day ago Arthur had instructed him quite clearly to _never_ leave him alone with Mithian. His words exactly had been "under no circumstances." What had changed his mind so suddenly?

Although he did have a point. Strolling through a city was not exactly private. There would be plenty of people all around. So Arthur wasn't really alone with her after all.

With a sigh, Merlin patted his horse and closed the stall up again, tossing the brush in the bucket of others. Maybe he would go for a walk after all.

Just as the thoughts passed through his head, the main stable doors opened and in walked a familiar face.

Leon stopped short. "Hello Merlin," he greeted before walking over to the same brush bin. "I thought you'd be with Arthur."

Merlin shrugged. "That's what I thought. But _apparently_ he is quite capable of taking care of himself, or so he claimed this morning."

Leon laughed. "Well, that's good news for you, I suppose."

"Yes except for now I'm actually rather bored."

"Would you _prefer_ to follow Arthur around all day?"

"No," Merlin responded automatically. "But why can't he ever give me free time when we're _home_?"

"I hear you. Well, believe it or not, I get equally bored on these trips."

"Really?" Merlin asked, thoroughly surprised. "But you're a noble! You can do pretty much whatever you want."

"Not really. No one really cares about the few knights that are brought for the king's support. Everyone fusses over Arthur when we travel, and I'm left to my own devices."

"And the rest of the knights?"

Leon shrugged. "Went off to the tavern. I'm not a big fan of drinking, so I decided not to join them."

"So…how _do_ you pass the time?"

"Well, right now I came to brush out my horse. I don't have time to give him much attention in Camelot, so I like getting to spend a bit of time with him when we're away. Afterwards I was going to head to the practice yard to do a little bit of training."

"See?" Merlin pointed out. "That's a noble thing! I certainly can't go fill my time by swinging a sword around."

Leon laughed. "Do you even _want_ to swing a sword around?"

"Well…no. But at least it would be something to do."

"Come with me, then," Leon offered. "No one can complain if you're with me. I can even teach you a few things."

Suddenly the potential for the day increased and Merlin's eyes brightened. "Arthur _does _like to use me as target practice," he thought aloud. "It would be nice to actually _learn _a thing or two." Oh how wonderful would it be to offer Arthur a surprise. He'd never be able to beat the king, of course, Arthur was far too skilled a warrior. But it would be _incredibly_ satisfying to just _once_ land a hit.

**A/N: I would very much like to hear your thoughts on this so far, now that you know a bit more about what this plot entails. The idea basically came as a "what if" idea while writing Iron Grip. "What if it had been Arthur, instead of Merlin?" Though I promise you, this will be quite different than IG. We saw what happens when powerful Merlin is being controlled, but there's a whole new mess of problems when the king of Camelot is being controlled. Plus, the baddies have a different motive.**

**Review? I'd love your input.**

**~Syd**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Aha!" Merlin exclaimed as he landed a hit on the dummy, and for the first time ever the grip in his hand and the weight of his stance felt _right._

Leon, off to the side, nodded in approval. "That was good," he confirmed. "You're weight was just right, not too far forward like before. Remember that feeling. If you lean too far into your strike you'll be off balanced and vulnerable."

"Why didn't Arthur ever just _tell_ me that? Simple little instruction!"

The knight laughed. "I suspect the purpose of your sparring rounds are not actually for you to learn anything."

"No. It's so he can beat me up and make a fool of me."

"And tell me that _you_ don't enjoy making a fool out of _him."_

"When do I do that?"

"Do I need to give examples?"

"No."

"Admit it. It's part of your relationship. He whacks you around with a sword, and you tell him off with your words." Leon paused. "It's good for him," he added, face somewhat serious. "I think all the knights praise the day you came into his life."

Merlin, feeling somewhat awkward all of a sudden, shrugged. "Gwaine, maybe, since he loves anything that will make Arthur's life difficult."

But Leon shook his head. "No, not any of the new knights. Those who have been around for a while, who knew Arthur _before_ you showed up and started challenging everything to do with status and propriety."

Merlin was silent. He returned to his stance and gave a couple more strikes to the dummy as he mulled over Leon's words.

"Good," Leon said at another strike. "Ready to try a cross strike?

At Merlin's nod, Leon took the sword he was using from Nemeth's practice armory and quickly set his stance to demonstrate the new strike. "You use this strike immediately after blocking up high." He held his sword aloft and then swung it to the side, deflecting an imaginary attack before slowly bringing his sword down and across. Then he looked at Merlin expectantly.

Obediently. Merlin took up what he hoped was the correct stance. It looked relatively similar to the one he'd just used for the forward strike. He hefted his sword over his head in a block. He was using Leon's own sword, as neither of them were sure how the Nemeth nobility would react if a servant used their weapons.

Unfortunately, that was as far as he got before a set of voices interrupted their mini training session.

Suddenly self-conscious, Merlin dropped from his stance just before Arthur and Mithian rounded the corner.

Smiling pleasantly, the two stopped their conversation when they took notice of Leon and Merlin. They changed directions slightly and headed towards them.

"Leon, you should know better than to put anything sharp in Merlin's hands," Arthur said as they came to a stop in front of them. "He'll either break _himself_ or the sword, and I would hate to have to replace one of Nemeth's beautifully crafted weapons."

Merlin glared. "_Thanks,_" he said sarcastically. "Nice to know you care."

"It's my sword, Sire," Leon inserted. "I am using one of Nemeth's."

"Good call!" Arthur praised. "I knew I was smart to bring you."

"I didn't know you could use a sword," Mithian remarked to Merlin.

Arthur laughed. "He can't!"

"Maybe I could if you didn't simply use me as _target_ practice and instead actually taught me something useful."

"Hey, I happen to be an excellent teacher. But teaching _you_ is impossible."

"Leon is managing just fine."

"Oh really?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Would you care to demonstrate?"

Another glare.

"Really, Arthur," Mithian scolded half-heartedly, "Don't be so hard on him. For someone so gracious to your allies, you certainly are hard on your own servant."

"Oh, come!" Arthur protested. "I'm not hard on him, I'm honest. He _is_ a terrible swordsman. He needs to know that so he doesn't go into a fight with a false sense of security. See? I'm just as 'gracious' with him as I am with your kingdom."

"So…you equate berating your servant with giving us back the lands of Gedref?" Mithian asked pointedly.

Arthur thought for a moment, then nodded. "Both are necessary, in the interest of the other party, and have a positive outcome. That sounds fairly similar to me."

Mithian laughed while Merlin scowled. "Well, I hardly think Merlin is as thankful for your graciousness as my father and I are."

"Well, _Merlin_ hasn't figured out just how terrible he is, yet, so he can't see my words as a gift," Arthur countered. "Whereas you and your father know as well as I that the lands were truly Camelot's, and therefore a valuable gift."

Merlin, anger forgotten, actually snapped his eyes to Arthur in shock. Leon and Mithian looked equally surprised, then Mithian frowned ever so slightly. "I cannot concur with that," she said honestly. "If we believed the lands to rightfully be Camelot's we would not have disputed over them for so long."

Arthur also frowned. "You accepted Gedref as a gift offering for alliance," he pointed out. "A gift cannot be given unless it is owned by the giver."

"You did not _give_ us the lands of Gedref," Mithian countered, voice definitely taking on a firm note. "You gave up your claim to the land. There's a difference."

"Our _claim,_" Arthur repeated. "As in our _rights_ to the land."

Merlin cleared his throat rather purposefully. "What does the terminology matter?" he asked, somewhat nervously. "The important thing is that we are allies." If this had been between any other nobles, he certainly would not have spoken, but he hoped Mithian would not mind.

But the princess merely shook her head slightly, then smiled again. "You are right, of course, Merlin. Thank you." She turned once again to Arthur, smile not quite as genuine as it had been before. "Shall we continue our tour?" she asked. "The archery range is just on the other side of the armory there."

"I would be delighted," Arthur said, seeming oblivious to any tension he had caused. He offered his arm and the two of them continued on, leaving Merlin and Leon behind.

Merlin stared after them in silence for a long time, baffled.

"So…shall we continue?" Leon asked.

"Did that seem odd to you?"

Leon hesitated. "Was what odd? " he asked at last, but Merlin cast him a skeptical look. "All right, yes. It did. Arthur's usually more…diplomatic than that."

"Exactly! You'd think he _wanted_ to stir up trouble with Mithian."

"But that's ridiculous."

"I know," Merlin said, waving his hand aside. "But in any case, he's being rather careless, which is not like him." He frowned. "And weren't they supposed to be touring the city today?"

Leon shrugged. "Maybe they changed their mind. Cities can be rather crowded. Maybe they wanted something a little more quiet."

But that didn't seem right, either. One of the reasons Arthur had dismissed Merlin for the day was because they _were_ going to the busy city: very public.

Merlin shook his head slightly. It would be fine. Arthur knew what he was doing. In the meantime, Merlin was actually enjoying his work with a sword for the first time. He certainly wasn't going to let Arthur ruin that.

.~.

Merlin migrated through the crowded hallway that led straight to the kitchen. Unlike Camelot, Merlin was completely unfamiliar with the side passages of this castle, so he was stuck using the overly-filled main corridors. He pressed himself against the wall when a servant with a particularly large tray expertly shoved his way through the mass.

Finally making it to the kitchens, Merlin looked around for a moment to gather his bearings. He took a serving tray that was stacked along one of the walls and started making his way around the room, dodging people with a small degree of difficulty, loading his tray with plates of various foods for his royal pratness.

The room was alive with the typical chatter that usually hung around the kitchens. Merlin kept half an ear open to it as he continued. It had become a habit of his to pay at least a little bit of attention. There had been multiple times when he had gathered important information through this very source. Though usually it was just idle gossip.

"Did you hear that Helga was caught with _Tom?_"

"So he _told_ me that he would meet me by the fountain, but he never came."

"Lord Ivan got drunk again last night. I spent the entire morning trying to sober him up."

"The king seems rather sweet on Her Majesty. What do you think that means for the wedding?"

Merlin's ears perked up and he turned his head slightly in the direction of the last snippet he gathered, trying not to be obvious.

"Who knows? But she _does_ seem to enjoy his company. They were laughing and smiling the whole time I saw them in town."

"And _then_ they disappeared," the first voice continued. "Where did they go?"

"They went to see the training courts," a third voice put in. "I saw them while I was cleaning the archery supplies. I don't think they realized I was there."

"What happened?"

"Were they alone?"

"Do you think they regret calling off the wedding?"

"Maybe—"

"All right, you lot, why don't you stick to your chores instead of spreading around a bunch of pointless rumors like a bunch of gossiping ninnies." Merlin's eyebrows shot into his hairline in his surprise. He knew that voice. Sure enough, when he turned his head enough to see the group, Issel stood there, seeming to tower over the three girls who looked quite chagrinned. "The princess has enough trouble without you lot causing her problems. Away with you!"

The girls scampered, two of them carrying trays already loaded with food while the third turned back to her work in the kitchen.

Merlin turned his face away as they passed, though he doubted they would recognize him as Arthur's servant. When Issel turned, however, she spotted him.

"Hello Issel," Merlin greeted pleasantly. She hesitated, clearly unsure of herself, before nodding in greeting to him. "Thank you for that."

"No need," she said quietly. "I did not do it for you or your master."

Merlin chuckled. "I've no doubt. But in any case, it was still helpful. Arthur doesn't need these rumors anymore than Mithian does." Suddenly he frowned. "Why are you taking so much food?"

Indeed, her tray was filled with quite a large amount.

"Your king and my lady are having lunch together in the dining hall," she said, tipping her head to the side slightly. "Didn't he tell you that?"

"Hm. No he did not. Arthur's not always the greatest about telling me changes in plans."

"Neither is my lady. She has a rather impulsive spirit."

"May I help you, then?" Merlin asked. "I came to get Arthur's lunch anyways," he hefted his own tray to make his point.

At her nod, Merlin discarded his tray for another servant to take up while he instead gathered some items that were more complimentary to Issel's selections. Then the two of them cut their way out of the crowd, Merlin following her lead into a much less crowded corridor than he would have selected had he been migrating through the castle himself.

Issel was awfully quiet as they continued on, and Merlin had to wonder just which was the "normal" Issel—this quiet, polite one that he had come to expect, or the rather more intimidating one he had seen in the kitchen. Although judging by the way no one had looked surprised at her scolding, he would guess that she was a lot more strong-willed than she let on to strangers.

Well, in any case, at least he had one person he could count on to help debunk these rumors. He was going to have to have a chat with Arthur.

**A/N: There you go! Chapter four. The next chapter will include a pretty significant shift in the plot. So stay tuned!**

**~Syd**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Welcome back! I must say, I love summer. I feel like I've finally been able to recover from all my exhaustion. Or at least I'm heading in that direction. Anyway. Onward!**

**~Syd**

Chapter Five

As Merlin and Issel entered the dining room, both of the royals paused from their conversation. Arthur sat back in his chair, seeming without a care in the world. Mithian, on the other hand, while she smiled at them, definitely had some tension in her jaw. Merlin pretended not to notice.

"Thank you, Issel," she said as the maidservant began placing the plates on the table. "And you, Merlin, of course."

"Of course, my lady," Issel replied, while Merlin just bowed his head briefly.

"I still say if the archery range switched to run from north to south, it makes more sense. Then you never have to deal with staring into the sun."

Merlin's hands paused for a moment, unloading his own tray of food, before he continued his work.

The comment did not seem a surprise to Mithian, whose jaw line tightened further. "It has been set up the same way for decades, Sire. Archers will not always have the luxury of an enemy who is courteous enough to attack in a manner that does not hurt their eyes."

"But the purpose of training is to build skill—expertise—_then_ you can transfer that skill to less than ideal circumstances, and by then you won't be limited to the archery fields."

The conversation was interrupted as the main doors opened again. Merlin looked up, then straightened respectfully, backing up from his standing position. Edgar inclined his head in gratitude and took the seat Merlin had been leaning over, at Mithian's right hand.

"Sorry I'm late. Your laws are really quite extensive."

Mithian smiled at him. "Are the lessons going well?"

"Absolutely," he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Have no fear! By the time we marry, I will know this kingdom's taxes, its laws, its history, its alliances, and everything else of importance."

"Surely you are not suggesting it is ever possible to have complete knowledge of a kingdom?" Arthur asked. "A king must always be learning, always trying to improve the kingdom, until the day he dies."

Merlin actually caught Mithian's eye that moment, and her displeasure was obvious. Edgar, on the other hand, did not seem to take offense. He barked a laugh.

"Oh don't take me so literally," he responded. "Just suffice it to say, yes, the lessons are going well."

"What were you studying today?

"Thank you," Edgar said to Issel as she set a plate in front of him and began to serve him food, then turned back to the royals. "Same thing as the last week: the laws governing sorcery, and other forms of magic."

Great, Merlin thought. More anti-magic talks. He would never get used to these.

"Ah, yes, a worthy thing of study. Sorcery is quite dangerous, after all," Arthur responded.

"Absolutely," Edgar agreed. "Nemeth is no stranger to the threat of magic. Although I fear Camelot has had the brunt of most magical attacks in recent decades."

"Yes, an unfortunate consequence of the Purge. My father's drastic measures may have saved us from many troubles, but he also left us with many enemies."

"Do you ever regret the Purge?" Edgar asked.

Arthur shook his head. "No. It was necessary. Magic was a cancer in our land. Worse, I think, than most kingdoms around us. The Purge may have made us a target, but it cleansed us. And no sorcerer has yet been able to topple us. Camelot is strong."

"Certainly. I, for one, cannot imagine what life must have been like with magic running rampant everywhere. But still, I sometimes wonder if we should be more understanding in some cases."

Merlin, standing back from the table with Issel, was pleasantly shocked. It was not often that anyone dared suggest _anything _related to magic other than cold hard death. More understanding? Dare he hope for an ally in turning Arthur's views?

The king, who had taken a drink of water, choked suddenly, though he managed not to spray water all over the table. "More understanding?" he repeated. "Surely you do not suggest that we should show mercy to sorcerers?"

"No, no," Edgar quickly assured him. "All I am saying is that the penalty should lie with the person who is at fault."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think of a child. A young child. His parents taught him sorcery, and told him it's nothing to be ashamed of. Can we truly blame the child for the actions of his parents?"

Arthur's frown did not lessen. "But by that argument, a great deal of _adult _sorcerers could not be blamed. Anyone who was taught magic as a child becomes exempt from all actions as adults, as they were never taught any better."

Edgar shook his head. "No, no. Once grown, any person has the right and the ability to choose a path for themselves. They could easily turn their back on sorcery. We must hold adults responsible for their actions, despite their beginnings. But as a child? What if we could _teach_ him better? Before it's too late?"

It was not what Merlin had been hoping for, and he even berated himself slightly for allowing that hope, but it was still a far more reasonable idea than any he had heard in Camelot thus far. At least by Edgar's idea, children may be spared.

He glanced at Arthur to see how he was taking it, but the king did not look particularly happy at the suggestion.

"To allow exceptions, even to children, would be to undermine the entire fight against magic."

"So you firmly hold that _all_ magic users should be met with death? No matter their circumstances?" Mithian inserted.

"Of course! That is the precedent set down by my father, and it has served us well so far."

"And you've never doubted the absolution of that law?" Edgar prompted.

"Never."

Merlin frowned again. But that wasn't entirely true. He remembered a certain druid boy that had quite _definitely_ challenged Arthur's view of that law. Well. Plenty more had surfaced to turn Arthur away from that doubt again and again.

Edgar shrugged. "Well, I doubt we will ever fully agree on that. I can't believe a blanket punishment is ever better than careful consideration."

Arthur remained thoughtfully silent as Merlin stepped up to refill his goblet.

.~.

"You don't think you've been acting even a _little_ bit ridiculously?"

"_Merlin,_ since when do I need _your_ opinion on diplomacy?"

"Since you've been nothing but rude all day."

"I have _not_ been rude."

"You told Mithian their training courts are set up wrong, Edgar that his views on magic are wrong, oh, and there was the whole thing about the lands of Gedref—"

"They _were_ our lands."

"_Fine!" _Merlin shouted. "They were our lands! But that doesn't change the fact that you gave those lands to Nemeth to build an _alliance,_ not to hold it over her head as evidence of your _generosity._ It was _your_ stupid marriage proposal that made giving those lands up necessary to begin with!"

"Watch it," Arthur said warningly. "You're crossing a line, Merlin."

"No, _you're_ crossing a line. And what was up with that tour of the training courts, anyway? You told me you were going to the city."

"I do not need to report every change of plans to you!" Arthur snapped. "I seem to recall giving you the day off. My change of plans was actually, for once, completely irrelevant to you."

"It's relevant when the only reason you gave me the day off was because you were _supposed_ to go to the _city_, where no chaperone would be necessary."

"I thought you were concerned that I _wasn't_ getting along with Mithian. Now you're worried that people will think we're getting along _too _well?"

"They already are!" Merlin scolded. "Rumors are already starting among the servants. You're lucky Issel is helping to dispel them."

"You worry too much."

"No, I worry precisely the right amount. And you can forget me taking tomorrow off, if that's what you had planned."

"Oh, no, that clearly left you with too much free time. I am loading you up with chores tomorrow."

"Well you can forget _that, _too."

"_Mer_lin. _I_ am the master. _You_ are the servant."

"The servant whom _you_ told to follow you around for this _entire_ trip and to 'under no circumstances leave you alone with Mithian.' Well news flash, Arthur. 'No circumstances' includes _you_ changing your mind."

With that, he stormed off into the antechamber.

.~.

With a deep, slow breath, Kinsley's eyes blinked open. He looked around, dazed for a moment. "Water." Obediently, a goblet was put to his lips. He shoved the hands off, taking the cup for himself before downing the liquid. "Food?"

"Here, my lord." Leric took a plate of simple bread, cheese, and meat and brought it to the duke who proceeded to eat. "The king?"

"Asleep."

"And you're not worried that he'll wake up while you're gone?"

Kinsley shook his head. "No. His mind is exhausted from fighting me all day. I'll be back long before he wakes up." He took his time eating his food, knowing it had been a full day since his own body had eaten anything, and it would be another full day before the next meal. Carefully, he stood up, stretching his protesting knees and walking around the room for a little while.

"How is it going?" Leric asked. "I've been in here the whole day, except to sneak in some food."

"No one saw you, did they?"

"Please," Leric grinned. "I know my way around without being seen."

"Good. If anyone sees that you're still here, it's only a matter of time before they make the jump that _I_ am still here."

"But it's going well?"

Kinsley smiled coyly. "Very. In fact, I found a way to push our timeframe back up, quite easily."

"Really? How?"

"A very easy way to stir up trouble, just like we wanted, without the troublesome task of having to skew Mithian's view of Arthur. All we need is an _in_-_character _reason for 'Arthur' to stir up trouble himself."

"And that is?"

"Magic."

Leric frowned. "Magic? We're already using magic."

"Not us," he waved the comment aside. "Edgar."

"I don't understand."

"If we frame Edgar for using magic—or maybe just consorting with sorcerers, I doubt Mithian would believe him an actual sorcerer—then I can suddenly demand the engagement to be severed, on threat of severing the alliance between Camelot and Nemeth."

Leric's eyes widened. "What sparked this idea?"

"Edgar's been studying Nemeth's laws on magic for the past week, and he has a _slightly_ more tolerant view of magic than Camelot's laws. Our laws are already a bit more lax on sorcery than Camelot's. It's the perfect backdrop for tension."

"That's brilliant. It doesn't even matter how ridiculous the claim. Camelot's known for its ridiculously strict view on even _suspected_ magic."

"Exactly! And Mithian will never agree to break the engagement. The alliance will be broken, and we'll be one step closer to war."

"War will be easy enough to start, once the alliance is severed. We could even use the same reasoning, if we take Edgar's 'consorting' to the next level of conspiracy."

"We do have one hiccup, unfortunately," Kinsley added. Leric frowned at that. "The servant: Merlin."

"What trouble can a servant cause?"

"He and Arthur are uncommonly close. If anyone discovers that Arthur's not quite himself recently, it will be him. And I think he may be getting suspicious that something's not quite right."

"What do you know about him?"

"A lot, thanks to Arthur," he said. "Arthur is convinced the boy is an idiot, that's definitely clear. But the more memories of his I dig through, the more I realize that's really not accurate. Arthur has this contradictory view of him as a rather wise idiot."

"Is he a threat?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. Even if he _were_ to discover us,it would be easy enough to dispose of him, although we'd need to stage that carefully. Apparently the boy is also friends with Arthur's right-hand knight, and we definitely can't afford to arouse the suspicions of a noble who would actually have a voice at court."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing where Merlin is concerned, for now. He plans to dog me all day tomorrow. Arthur gave him that order before I got to him, but it will be easy enough to circumvent that. If I can keep him at a distance for the next couple days, until we manage to frame Edgar, there will be no problem. If he becomes more troublesome, we can reevaluate. In the meantime, I have another task for you."

Taking another drink of water, Kinsley explained the next steps of this new version of plans. Then, with a final crack of his back, he took up his seat once again, let out a breath, then slowly let his eyes sink closed as he reformed his connection to Arthur and dove again into the king's mind.

**A/N: There you go! The baddies have a new recipe for disaster. Take a pot, stir in a little magic, a little prejudice, add a dash of tension, light it all on fire and watch it go kaboom. Easy-peasy! Of course, there's that pesky manservant in there who's bound to mess up their plans, right? Any predictions for how/when/if Merlin will find out what the heck is going on?**

**~Syd**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The next morning did not go as Merlin had anticipated. Fully determined to make good on his threat and follow Arthur around all day long, Arthur was equally determined to stop him. And unfortunately, there are times when it is much easier for a noble to make good on his determined plans than a servant.

As Arthur met Mithian in the main courtyard once again, Merlin inwardly groaned when he realized there were several other nobles present. That was both a blessing and a curse. More people on these excursions mean less rumors floating about, but more nobles meant more formalities. And Merlin hated formality.

The nobles, Merlin noted, completely ignored him as they approached, which only confirmed that this would be a _long_ day.

"Your Majesty," Arthur greeted pleasantly. "You look as lovely as ever."

Mithian bowed her head with what looked, to Merlin, like a somewhat forced smile. "Thank you, Sire."

"Will you all be joining us, this morning?" Arthur asked pleasantly, turning to the other nobles. "More company is always welcome, of course."

"Regretfully, no," the more portly man of the group responded. "Mithian tells us that you are to tour the vineyards today. She escorted us through the vineyards just a few days before you arrived. Although tomorrow she is showing us the royal gardens, if you'd care to join _us._"

"I would be delighted." Just as Merlin was re-processing that yes, they _would_ be off alone again, Arthur turned to him. "Merlin, I have left you a list of things to be accomplished in my absence today. It is on the table in my chambers. You are dismissed."

Merlin's jaw actually dropped. He recovered as quickly as he was able, eyes narrowing. "But _my lord,_ I was expecting to accompany you today."

Arthur waved the answer aside. "Nonsense. I certainly won't need your assistance in the vineyards. You're of better use to me here."

Without waiting for a response, he turned to Mithian. "Shall we, Your Majesty?"

Merlin's thoughts tumbled around in his head, but no reason or excuse came to mind that would allow him to circumvent the order given quite _conveniently_ in the presence of many nobles.

As all the nobles, Arthur and Mithian included, walked out of site, Merlin turned and stormed the rest of the way back to the royal chambers. Really! Trust Arthur to be a total and complete prat and find a way around Merlin's stubbornness. He couldn't very well ignore a royal command when given in front of other nobility. But he would be giving Arthur a definite piece of his mind later.

Something was really not right, though, Merlin was sure of it. Arthur was not acting like himself. He knew as well as anybody what trouble rumors could cause. Why was he suddenly pretending not to care?

He must have something up his sleeve, Merlin thought. Some way to dismantle the rumors all together? But why not just tell him?

And then there was the fact that he was being completely antagonistic to their hosts.

Merlin had half a mind to ignore Arthur's orders and go follow him anyway, albeit he would have to be discreet. But what use would that be? He couldn't act as a chaperone while hidden in the shadows, and neither could he tell Arthur off or redirect him when he started being an idiot again.

Arthur knows what he's doing, Merlin reminded himself. He's always been the better politician. He doesn't need someone second-guessing all of his actions.

So reluctantly, Merlin did just as he was ordered.

.~.

It was not until the afternoon that Leric carefully skittered his way back into the palace through one of the servants' entrances that stood empty at this time of day. He kept his hood up, as he had all morning as he traveled to the less than reputable merchants on the edge of town. No one had even asked why a mysterious cloaked figure was after such goods. No one cared in that part of town.

As it was, he hefted his bag, resettling it over his shoulder, then quickly strode through the halls.

He knew the servants' routine exceptionally well, of course. Part of that came from simple observation from living here his entire life, and part came from particular study as he and Kinsley had made these plans over the passed year. He'd known at some time he would have to navigate these halls undetected.

He reached his destination in no time at all. He carefully listened at the door to confirm no one was on the other side before unlocking the door with his swiped key.

Mithian's rooms were of course rather grand. The whole room was filled with greens and splashes of complimentary purples. It was bold and bright—just like the princess.

Not too bright, Leric amended silently. Kinsley had lived in this court for years, and she had never once suspected him of plotting for her crown. Neither did Issel suspect them, as far as he could tell. And she was, quite honestly, one of the smarter servants he had met.

A quick glance around confirmed he was alone. He shouldn't have anything to worry about, as Kinsley was keeping Mithian occupied and Issel was down in the laundry mat, by now. Nevertheless, best be quick about it, he thought, as he locked the door behind him.

Out of his bag came a fist-sized stone, runes etched into its surface and a dark spot of blood staining them. Dropping to his knees, he leaned down until he could see clearly under the bed, shoulder taking his weight on the ground. It was a simple matter to tuck the stone up between the bed's frame and the mattress.

The sudden sound of a door handle rattling surprised him. Next came the unmistakable scrape of a key.

More than mildly alarmed, Leric didn't hesitate before flinging himself under the bed.

Light footsteps and a sudden view of very worn shoes confirmed that it must be Issel who had entered. But why was she here! He'd seen her head down to the laundry room with her basket of clothes. She should be down there for another hour, at least.

The servant let out a soft sigh as she bent to pick up a crumpled garment on the ground. Leric held his breath as she did, praying that she wouldn't turn her head and see him. But then she merely straightened again, anything above her ankles disappearing from view once more, before walking out just as quickly as she'd entered.

He let out the breath he'd been holding and allowed his head to fall back, letting out a soft thump as it contacted the wood.

But all was well. Now, it was time for the second step of their plan. He eased his way out from under the bed and carefully retreated out of the room, unseen.

.~.

Merlin hefted the large bucket, trying to resettle his grip on it without setting it down. Why did the guest chambers have to be so many flights up from the main floor? He'd already sloshed himself with soapy water twice.

A few more steps, and he at last reached the landing.

Or rather, _this _landing. But he still had to go up one more flight. To do that, however, he had to go down the next corridor for another set of stairs.

Unfortunately, however, that was not meant to be. As he rounded the corner, he ran straight into another person. He grabbed for the bucket, trying desperately not to dump water on whatever poor soul he'd just collided with, but he only succeeded in dumping the whole thing on himself, instead.

"Oh! Merlin! I'm so sorry I didn't see you!"

Merlin sighed, looking down his now soaked shirt and trousers before looking up to assess the damage to the other.

It was Issel. She'd avoided the worst of the splash, though there were some dark splotches on her dress, as well.

"No worries," Merlin declared, forcing a smile. He was only three flights up. What was another trip? He set the bucket down and tried to ring his shirt out best he could without actually removing it. "Are you all right, though? It doesn't seem like you to be distracted."

Her hesitation did not go unnoticed, and Merlin frowned, suddenly the bucket of soapy water forgotten. "What is it?"

But she shook her head. "It is nothing. I am just a bit distracted is all. I am sorry again. Let me ask one of the palace servants to bring you up another bucket so you don't have to take another trip. I presume you were heading to Arthur's rooms?"

"Um," he paused before his scattered thoughts refocused. "Yes, yes I was."

"I'll see to it, then."

She made to pass him, but Merlin reached out without thinking and took her arm. "What is it?" he repeated. Issel looked shocked at his brash motion. He wasn't even sure why he thought something was wrong.

There—there it was. The way she bit her lower lip ever so slightly. It was just like what Guinevere used to do, back when she was a servant and knew her worries would go unheeded, especially her worries over Morgana.

"Is everything all right with Princess Mithian?"

Issel shook off his hand, gently but firmly. "She is fine, of course. Why would she not be?"

"It's just…You don't look right."

She frowned and a tiny spark lighted in her eyes, hinting at the feisty girl he'd seen in the kitchens, before she'd known she was being watched by one of the visitors. The look actually made him gulp.

"I appreciate your concern, but I and my lady are both quite fine. Now if you will excuse me, I have chores to attend to. I will send someone up with your water."

But Merlin wasn't convinced. Something wasn't right.

"Mithian trusts me," he said softly. 

Issel's eyes narrowed into a glare. "You'd do best to call her 'Her Majesty' or 'Princess Mithian.'"

"I've never been one for following rules."

Issel sighed, but did not pull away from him this time. Instead, she studied him carefully, then glanced around them. "I've heard some rumors," she said at last.

"Not more rumors about Arthur and Mithian," Merlin groaned, but she shook her head.

"No. I mean, I've heard some rumors about Camelot. Has…Arthur really been enchanted as many times as they say?"

This time it was Merlin's turn to narrow his eyes. "Why do you ask?" he said slowly, but Issel just continued to study him. "I don't know what you've heard," Merlin went on, "but yes. Arthur has been enchanted before, on a few separate occasions. But he was always sorted again."

"How?"

And Merlin's eyes widened that time. "You don't…do you think Arthur's _enchanted_ again?" he asked, shocked. Certainly Arthur had been acting a bit…_off_ lately. But not _that_ off. And how would Issel have noticed?

But when she hesitated again, a new wave of understanding hit him. "You think _Mithian's _enchanted?"

But Issel hurriedly hushed him, looking around anxiously. Silently, she indicated for him to follow her.

They ended up in an empty chamber and she closed the door behind them. When she turned to Merlin again, she hesitated, then rubbed her temple in exasperation. "Goodness knows why I'm telling you this…" she thought out loud. But she seemed to have come to some sort of decision. "I don't know," she admitted. "But…she may be. You've seen enchantments before. How did you figure out Arthur wasn't…himself?"

"Well…that depends entirely on which time you're talking about," he admitted. He'd seen his fair share of enchantments. It always seemed to be something different that tipped him off. Then again, there were also those times when Arthur hadn't _actually_ been enchanted, such as that time he'd first invented "Dragoon the Great." "What makes you suspicious of Mithian?"

Reluctantly, Issel reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out some sort of stone. "I found this under her bed."

Merlin took it in hand, turning it over to inspect the runes carved into its surface, covered in blood. He didn't recognize them. "Any idea what these runes mean?"

"No."

He frowned. He didn't _feel_ any magic coming from it. But that didn't necessarily mean anything. A lot of magical items lay dormant until the right circumstances.

"What do you plan to do?"

Issel shook her head. "I don't know. I'd normally tell Mithian anything of importance. But…"

"But you don't know just how this may be affecting her. Or how she may be compromised."

"What did you do? When Arthur was compromised? Who did you go to?"

Merlin hesitated, mentally going over the different approaches he had taken over the years. He couldn't very well tell her anything like _blew up the Sidhe and drug him back myself._

"Gaius, the court physician. He has some experience in fighting magic, and I'm his ward. I trust him when I can't trust anyone else."

"That doesn't help me. Our physician is…well. I wouldn't trust him with delicate information like this. Neither would Mithian."

Merlin cocked his eyebrow. "Why does he work here, then?"

She shrugged. "King Rodin is fond of him. Turns a blind eye to some of his _less admirable _traits."

"Ah. Well. What of Arthur? He could help us." Issel did not look particularly happy with that suggestion. "Look," Merlin placated, "Arthur is a good man. I trust him with my life."

"I don't like him," Issel confessed. "He's been nothing but rude to my lady since he arrived."

Merlin sighed. "Yes, well. He's having an off week. But you don't have to like him to know that he could help us. He has a voice in court that neither of us do."

"I don't _want_ the court to know about this."

"What about Rodin? Arthur could talk to him. They could come up with a plan."

"Do you think they'll be…delicate about this? My lady does not need a political scandal right now. Not with the wedding and this new alliance coming up."

"Arthur knows the meaning of discretion," Merlin assured her. "And Rodin will certainly keep things quiet if that's best for his daughter _and_ his kingdom." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "As soon as they return from the vineyards, I'll tell Arthur you need to speak to him privately."

"I'm just a servant—"

"That won't matter. Not to him."

"I'm not even one of his subjects!"

"He'll hear you out," Merlin said gently. "Don't worry. If Mithian really is enchanted, we'll sort her out."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for those of you who have been leaving reviews! I love reading your progress through this story. Please feel free to give any constructive criticism, as well.**

**Enjoy!**

**~Syd**

Chapter Seven

It was shortly before dinnertime that Arthur returned. By then, Merlin had convinced Issel to tell Arthur her suspicions and enlist his help, but she was still far from comfortable with the idea. Nevertheless, with Arthur heading towards his chambers to change into formal evening attire, Merlin silently caught Issel's eye from across the courtyard and nodded. Merlin then followed at Arthur's heels, and Issel inconspicuously melted back into the crowd.

"I trust you finished all the chores I left you," Arthur commented as they took the final flight of stairs. They'd been silent the entire walk up until then. "You've had plenty of time, surely."

"I'm sorry _m'lord,"_ Merlin chided. "You seem to underestimate the amount of time it takes to get things done. By about half, is my estimate."

"So in other words, not even close," Arthur concluded. He stopped briefly and studied him before continuing to his door. "Well, you don't _seem_ drunk so at least you didn't spend all your time at the tavern."

Merlin choked. "I do _not_ spend all my time in the tavern!"

"Right."

"I go a _few_ times, and suddenly you think I'm as bad as Gwaine. Or worse! Old Stinky Stewart." Of course, even those few times had mostly been lies to cover up some magical scheme or other.

"Well honestly, Merlin, look at these floors," Arthur declared as they at last entered. "You were supposed to scrub them! Did you even _start?_"

"I told you," Merlin said, "there wasn't enough time." Although he had at least managed to come change out of his wet clothes. In truth, he _could_ have finished everything on the list, with a little magical help at least, but he'd had more pressing matters on his mind. "Um, Arthur?" Merlin began tentatively, as Arthur began taking off his coat.

"What?" he clipped.

"Before you start getting undressed, there's actually someone who needs to speak with you."

The king paused, back to Merlin, before turning to face him. "And who is this who thinks they can so casually interrupt a king's plans without any announcement?"

"Please," Merlin said, suddenly serious. "Just, hear her out."

Merlin did not see the confusion or suspicion that he had expected, but at last Arthur nodded, and that was all he needed.

Opening the door again, Merlin found Issel just as he had expected and beckoned her inside, closing the door so the three of them would not be overheard.

"Issel," Arthur greeted, crossed arms falling to his sides. "What can I do for you?"

Issel seemed a tad surprised. She hesitated, then dropped into a belated curtsey. "Good evening, my lord. Thank you for seeing me."

"Of course."

Issel still hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Merlin again. "It…It's about Her Majesty."

"Mithian?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Arthur frowned. "If this is about those rumors Merlin is so concerned about, then forgive me if I do not take them so seriously. If there isn't _one_ ridiculous rumor, it's another. I hardly think—"

"Arthur," Merlin interrupted, when it appeared that Issel was just going to let him go on. "This isn't about those rumors. Although _I _still think you should be taking them a little more seriously." He turned back to Issel. "Go on."

"I think…I fear she may not be herself, Your Majesty."

This time Arthur did not respond. He studied Issel carefully, then inclined his head in a silent invitation.

"I found this under her bed," she held the stone out, which Arthur cautiously took in hand, turning it over and studying the runes.

"Do you recognize these markings?" he asked.

"No, my lord."

"Merlin?" Arthur turned to him. "You're Gaius's ward. Have you ever come across anything like this?"

Merlin shook his head. "They're some sort of runes," he said simply with a shrug, "but I don't know what they are."

"And you've never seen it before?" Arthur asked Issel.

"Never, my lord. Although, it was tucked up between the bed's frame and the mattress, so it is entirely possible that I had missed it. I don't know how long it's been there."

Arthur frowned. "How did you find it, then?"

Merlin studied Issel, not having thought of that. She had not mentioned it. Her further hesitation revealed a less-than-easy answer. It was a long moment's silence, her fingering the folds of her dress before she at last reached into her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, handing it over.

Arthur took it without a word and unfolded it.

"Do not trust Lord Edgar. Search Her Majesty's mattress," he read out loud.

Merlin's jaw dropped. "_Edgar?_" he asked, flabbergasted. "As in Mithian's _betrothed_ Edgar? That can't be right!"

"I was just as surprised," Issel confessed. "But then I went to search the bed, just in case, and found this."

"Who gave this to you?" Arthur demanded.

"I've no idea, my lord. I found it in my room on my nightstand. My rooms are hardly difficult to break into. It could have been anyone."

"Someone who knows you," Arthur mused. "Someone who knows you'd protect the princess. So someone local, most likely, not one of the visiting dignitaries."

"I believe so, my lord."

"But you don't recognize this handwriting?"

"No, my lord."

"Hold up," Merlin interrupted, hands flying up as well. "We can't seriously be accusing _Edgar_ of enchanting Mithian! I mean he's…he's Edgar!"

"And how well do we actually know him?" Arthur pointed out.

Merlin's mouth opened and shut a couple times. "But _Mithian_ trusts him!"

"I believe _that_ is entirely the point. Issel, how long ago did Mithian and Edgar meet?"

"Only a short time before the engagement. We were all surprised when she came back from Caerlean and announced the engagement," she confessed. "But it made political sense, and they got on so well, that no one really thought much of it."

"Perhaps that was intentional."

"Arthur," Merlin interrupted, stepping forward again. "May I speak with you? Privately?"

"This _is _privately, Merlin," Arthur pointed out. "And Issel is just as involved in this, so speak here."

"Fine. If you go accusing Edgar of enchanting Mithian—without any real evidence, I might add—do you really think _anyone _is going to believe you? Especially with these rumors flying around about the two of you. People will chalk it up to jealousy and sabotage."

"He's right," Issel concurred. "Plus, we don't actually know if it was Edgar."

"I wish I knew who gave you that note," Merlin admitted.

"Me, too. But without knowing that, we don't know if we can trust the information."

"It was right about the mattress," Arthur pointed out.

"Yes…but what if whoever wrote the note put the stone there?"

Arthur sat down at the table, tapping his fingers along the wood as he thought, starring at the floor.

"So…what's the plan?" Merlin asked.

Arthur let out a sigh, tapped his fingers one more time, then looked up with a determined look on his face. "We can't take any chances," he said. "If Mithian's enchanted, we need to help her. That's not something we can risk waiting on the chance that we _might_ be wrong."

"But we have no _proof_—"

"_Merlin,"_ Arthur scolded. "Do you take me for an idiot?"

"Well—"

"Don't answer that."

"_You _asked," he muttered.

"I will speak with Rodin, tell him about the note and the stone."

"But—" she began.

"Rodin is a wise man," Arthur interrupted. "He will do what is best for the kingdom _and_ for Mithian. Never fear." He gently took Issel's hand in his, which seemed to quite startle her. "We will sort this out. You did the right thing in coming to me. I will help."

Issel bit her lip slightly, then nodded. Arthur squeezed her hand before releasing it.

"I am having dinner with Rodin. I will speak to him then. In the meantime, is there anywhere you may find information about these runes?"

"Yes…the library, I suppose. There are books on magic in there. Purely for research and defense," she added quickly at Arthur's narrowed brow.

"Then go there. There are a few hours before dinner. Can you find out what these runes mean by then?"

"I can try."

"We will," Merlin said firmly. He caught Issel's eye. "I have some experience with last-minute research," Merlin explained. "But we'd best start now."

Arthur pulled out a piece of paper, studied the rock for a moment, then carefully copied the figures down before handing the paper to Merlin. "Take this. I'll hang on to the stone. Go."

Merlin turned to leave immediately, but Issel paused and dropped into a curtsey.

"Thank you, my lord."

.~.

Merlin slid to a halt the last moment before he rounded the corner, realizing he'd get quite a few questioning eyes if he came bursting onto scene so suddenly. He took a few breaths as his heartbeat reminded him how long of a dash it really was between the library and here. But he'd told Arthur he'd find the answer before dinner.

Stepping out at a much more acceptable speed, Merlin was ignored by the several nobles who were just filtering into the formal dining room. Arthur, seeing him, disentangled himself from the crowd and waited while Merlin approached.

"Well?" he asked quietly.

"Thou shalt love me," he said quietly, then winced as he realized what that sounded like. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one had heard the slip. "I mean, that's what the runes translate as."

Arthur frowned. "So our suspicions so far appear to be right."

"At least about what the stone _does. _We still don't know who actually _put_ it there."

"Thou shalt love _me,_" Arthur pointed out. "It doesn't say thou shalt love 'Edgar' or 'that other person.' It says 'me.' You still don't find that suspicious?"

"Of course I do! But for all we know, someone could be setting this up to frame him and cause unrest."

Arthur rubbed his temple. "Where is Issel?"

"I presume inside with Mithian. She left to prepare her for the feast just before I found the translation."

Arthur nodded. "Good. Well, time for dinner, I suppose."

Merlin fell into step behind him, the rest of the guests having already preceded them. Regardless of whether this was real or a frame up, at least they could be sure Rodin would be cautious. He was a wise man, from what Merlin could tell of him. He would know how to deal with this quietly.

"Arthur," Rodin greeted pleasantly. The other nobles had already taken their seats, leaving Arthur a space at the king's left hand. To Rodin's right sat Mithian, and to her right, Edgar. "It's not like you to be the last to arrive. Did our paintings in the hallway distract you much?"

"I confess something has distracted me, Your Majesty, but it was not your paintings."

"Oh?" Rodin asked, frowning slightly at the tension that was so clearly in Arthur's shoulders. Merlin winced. He really hoped Rodin had the sense not to press the matter now. He'd find out soon enough. In any case, Arthur could certainly circumvent that particular conversation. "Is there anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable?"

Arthur's jaw clenched as he lowered his eyes to Edgar. "Your hospitality has been a pleasure, my lord," he said, eyes not leaving Edgar's now very-confused face. "But there is one thing that concerns me."

Merlin's head snapped up. Surely not. He wouldn't be so _stupid. _Surely not.

"Have I offended you in some way?" Edgar asked, rising from his seat to meet Arthur's gaze squarely.

There was a rather intense silence that followed as the entire room became still. Then without a word, Arthur reached into his belt and plopped a rock onto the table so hard the wood shook.

"Care to explain _this?" _he demanded.

Edgar frowned and everyone stared at the stone questioningly. Merlin's eyes found Issel almost immediately, but she wasn't looking at him. She was starring at Arthur in horror, face entirely pale.

"What is it?"

"Arthur, perhaps it is best if we continue this conversation privately," Rodin inserted.

"It's an enchanted stone," Arthur spat. "_Edgar _here has been consorting with sorcerers!"

"I've never seen that stone in my life!" Edgar insisted. "What even _is _it? What makes you so sure it is mine?"

Arthur's answer was immediate as he turned to the girl behind Mithian. "Issel," the maidservant jumped, looking like a startled deer. "Tell the court where you found the stone."

Her mouth gapped, obviously trapped.

"Don't speak to her that way!" Mithian ordered. "You forget, _Your Majesty,_ that this is not _your_ kingdom, and Issel is not one of _your_ servants to order about. Honestly. You've gone too far this time, Arthur. Accusing my betrothed of enchantments?"

"Issel?" Arthur insisted, ignoring Mithian, much to the princess's further irritation.

Issel licked her dry lips. "U—under my lady's mattress, Your Majesty."

Mithian's jaw dropped, as all the nobles around the table gasped. Edgar actually took a step back.

"The runes carved into it read, _'Thou shall love me,'" _Arthur continued. "I had them translated immediately, in case I was wrong. I _wanted_ to be wrong. But you've had Mithian under your spell! You've been after the Nemeth crown this entire time!"

"Arthur, _stop it!_" Mithian commanded, jumping to her feet. "You can't just accuse him of something so severe without _any_ proof!"

"The stone is enchanted to make you love someone! And tell me Mithian, who do you love? _Edgar!_ You've been enchanted!" He turned to Rodin. "Forgive me, my lord, I had not planned to bring this accusation forth in such a way. But I cannot sit by while Mithian is being manipulated so completely!"

"I have _not_ enchanted Mithian!" Edgar countered firmly, eyes hard. "I would never! Nor would I be able to! I'm no sorcerer!"

"That doesn't mean you can't have easily acquired the services of one."

"_Listen_ to yourself, Arthur."

"Listen to _yourself,_ Mithian! How soon after meeting him were the two of you engaged? Can't you _see!_"

"_We_ were engaged _before _we met," Mithian reminded him. "Does that mean you enchanted me?"

"That was arranged by your father! _Your_ engagement wasn't arranged by him, was it? The two of you arranged it yourselves and then he gave his blessing, am I right?"

Mithian's gaping mouth told him he was.

"Everyone out," Rodin commanded, gaining his feet at last. "And speak of this to no one until we sort it out. "Mithian, Edgar, Arthur, stay behind please. Issel, you stay as well. I want to know exactly _where _and _how_ you found this stone."

"Merlin stays too," Arthur inserted. "He's the one I had translate the runes."

"Fine. Everyone else, out. Speak of this to _no_ one. That is an order. Am I understood?"

Slowly, the shocked nobility filtered out, having uttered not a word since the whole shouting match had begun, leaving six people glaring daggers all around.

Merlin's own dagger glares were aimed directly at Arthur.

_Arthur,_ he thought, _and you call _me_ the idiot._


End file.
